


New Direction: Imperfection

by whelvenwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Fem!Cas, fem!dean, fem!destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whelvenwings/pseuds/whelvenwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deanna's already a pariah at her school, with gossip about her family reaching everyone's ears. Only shy, intense Castielle doesn't flinch away at the thought of her company - so when the two of them are assigned to design each other's senior prom dresses, they strike up an unlikely, forbidden friendship. But as Cas is starting to come to terms with her own sexuality, could the friendship become something more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Direction: Imperfection

Cas wandered down the hallway, reading her book. She had a leisurely five minutes before her next class started, and she wanted to spend them cooling off, retreating into the comfortable world of literature. In her earlier History class, she’d been asked to do a presentation unexpectedly; she’d managed, but her voice had been shaking and her fingers had trembled and she’d stammered and stuttered like a second-rate student who hadn’t done her homework – and Cas was  _anything_ but that.

She tried to unstick her mind from the whole cringe-worthy episode, but it clung to her mind like glue, gloopy strands looping around every word she read. It was impossible to concentrate. She sighed, and tucked her book into her bag.

As she passed the rows of lockers, she noticed a familiar figure leaning up against the wall. Deanna Winchester was silently gathering up her stuff, throwing books and notepaper carelessly into her bag. Cas pressed her lips together. Deanna had been in the History class; she’d been in the corner, of course, like usual, with her customary expression of faintly-arrogant disinterest firmly in place. It had been better than Ruby’s laughing, or Anna’s snide comments, but not by much.

Deanna glanced up as Cas passed, looking angry and vaguely confrontational. Cas knew to expect the look: it was part of the persona that Deanna had built up for herself over the past few months since she’d joined the school. Cas had heard all kinds of crazy rumours about the new girl, including that she’d been expelled from seven other schools for violence and possession of illegal substances, that she’d hit on the head of the cheerleading squad, and that she had a tattoo on her chest.

“ _Not_ a family we want to get involved with,” Cas’ mother Naomi had stated firmly, after hearing all about it from Anna’s mother, who in turn had got the gossip from Ruby’s mother.

Cas knew that her mother was right. Deanna was so obviously trouble, from her ripped-up jeans, battered old boots and cropped brown hair to her intimidating silences, smirking confidence and bad attitude.

And yet when Deanna looked at her, Cas didn’t glance away immediately like everyone else did, like she should. Instead, she stared right back. There was something  _more_ to Deanna, Cas knew. More than the rest of the school were giving her credit for, some hidden quality that Cas glimpsed every time she met the other girl’s eyes.

“See something you like?” Deanna snapped, as Cas passed.

“I don’t know, yet,” Cas replied, and went on her way. She’d probably never get the chance to know Deanna properly. The girl clearly didn’t want to be befriended, and Cas knew that she didn’t have the confidence to press her company where it wasn’t wanted. It hardly mattered; senior year was coming to an end. Soon, they’d both go to college, and never see each other again.

And that was for the best, Cas reminded herself sternly, ignoring the pair of green eyes that kept rising to the surface of her mind, glowering at her, both demanding her attention and rejecting it at the same time. She twisted her long brown hair into a neat bun at the base of her neck, a few loose strands hanging down in front of her ears, and walked to class.

**

“I’ve been very impressed with you all so far this year,” Miss Harvelle said, moving between the tables of the textiles classroom. “Your work on those coats was excellent, but now I want to move on to a different challenge.”

Cas relaxed into her seat, putting her book down on the vacant chair next to her. She’d enjoyed making her coat – she wore it now, a fitted tan trench with wide, useful pockets – but she was ready to design something new. As she passed, Miss Harvelle offered Cas a warm smile: she knew that textiles was Cas’ favourite class.

_Bang._

The door was flung open, and in strode Deanna Winchester, her leather jacket over one shoulder, sunglasses covering her eyes.

“Miss Winchester,” said Miss Harvelle. “You managed to find us at last. It’s strange how you seem to forget where my classroom is every single week, isn’t it?”

“Sorry, Miss Harvelle,” Deanna said, with just enough of a smile on her face to straddle the border between sincerity and sarcasm. She strode over to the seat beside Cas.

“Is this seat taken?” she said, as she picked up the book resting on it and placed it surprisingly gently on the table before flopping down into a sprawling, messy sit. Cas resisted both the urge to look at her, and the impulse to scoot her chair away.

“We’re moving on to dresses,” Miss Harvelle continued. “More specifically, prom dresses. Now, you’ll all be going to prom…” Cas heard Deanna give a tiny, derisive snort. “…so you’ll have been looking at prom fashion for yourselves over the past couple of weeks, I’m sure. What I want you to do now is consider the best dress for someone  _else_ to wear.”

Cas raised her eyebrows. She had, of course, been looking at prom dresses online – somewhat wistfully, since she knew it was unlikely that she’d be asked to go to prom by anybody in her year.

Cas brought her mind back to the assignment. She knew her own body, and what suited it best; thinking about someone else’s style would be totally different, completely new. She folded her hands on the table, leaning forward slightly with anticipation. She wondered who she’d be designing for – please don’t let it be Ruby, she thought a little desperately, please not her, or Anna –

“Due to the stigma attached to boys attending a sewing class, we’re all girls here,” Miss Harvelle said, an ironic little smile on her face, “so we’ll make this easy. Everyone designs a dress for the person currently sitting next to them.”

Cas’ folded hands went tense. Beside her, she could sense Deanna go still.

“Um, Miss Harvelle… we don’t have to actually  _wear_ the dresses that are designed for us, when we go to prom, do we?” demanded Ruby. Beside her, Samandrielle looked vaguely offended.

“No, of course not,” said Miss Harvelle. “It’s unlikely that any of them will be finished in time, you only have a couple of weeks. That’s not the idea of this task. I want you to be thinking about other people’s bodies, show me that you understand that one style doesn’t fit all. Use your designs to show off your partner’s best assets. Make them look their best. Everybody clear?”

The class nodded, with a few murmurs of assent.

“Great. I’ll be at my desk. Get started.”

Every person in the class seemed to start talking at once; in the cacophony, Cas turned silently to Deanna, who was leaning her chair back on two legs and inspecting her fingernails, shades still over her eyes.

“So,” Cas said, unsure how to begin. Her heart was thumping hard in her chest; she bit the inside of her cheek.

“That your book?” Deanna demanded suddenly, the front two legs of her chair crashing to the floor.

“Yes,” replied Cas, a little defensively. Deanna picked it up.

“Pride and Prejudice,” she read off the cover. “I hear Prejudice dies at the end.”

Cas tilted her head, frowning.

“I suppose it does, in a metaphorical sense,” she answered. Deanna flipped up her sunglasses; she looked puzzled, but she was smiling, albeit with that same vaguely threatening hard edge as always.

“Aren’t you a card,” she said. “I’m Deanna Winchester.”

“Castielle Novak,” said Cas, extending her hand solemnly.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Deanna said, shaking it. Her grip was warm and firm.

“So, I suppose we’re working together on this assignment,” Cas said, pulling a blank sheet of paper towards her and sketching the outline of a model. “What’s your preferred style of prom dress?”

Deanna huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, I don’t… I don’t do that,” she said, drawing her own piece of white paper across the desk. “You just do whatever you want, and I’ll say that I like it. I’ll throw something together for you and scrape a passing grade in this class, which is all I need to graduate. I don’t care what you make, anything will do.”

Cas shook her head, looking down at her drawing. She started to sketch a long, flowing skirt, figuring that it was as good a place as any to start.

“What, you got a problem with that?” Deanna asked, her hard-edged smile vanishing, replaced immediately by a scowl.

“No,” Cas replied. “I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t want me to make you something you’d really like. I’m good at this, you know.”

“I know,” Deanna said, casting a glance at Cas’ coat. “I’ve been in this class all year. I know you could make something great.”

“Then what is it?” demanded Cas, looking into her partner’s sharp green eyes. Deanna looked half-furious, half-afraid. After a moment, she dropped her gaze.

“You don’t think you deserve it,” Cas said suddenly. The thought had popped into her head and come out of her mouth before she’d had time to think it through, but she didn’t take it back. Deanna looked up at her, all traces of confidence gone. Her full lips were slightly parted in consternation.

“ _What?_  I – I’m – I –” she sputtered, stammering worse than Cas in her history class. “I have no idea what you mean,” she managed to say abruptly, after a few seconds. “Just get designing, will you? Or you’ll fail this class as hard as I’m going to.”

Cas shrugged, and turned to her paper. Whether Deanna was prepared to help her or not, this was going to be the most  _perfect_ prom dress it was possible to design.

**

“Castielle, would you pass your father the potatoes?”

Cas hefted the heavy bowl into one hand, using the other to reach for the carrots. Naomi slapped it, light but stinging.

“Use both hands,” she said sternly. “You’ll drop it on the tablecloth.”

Her father accepted the potatoes in silence. Cas sighed; she hated their nightly gatherings around the dinner table. The dark wooden walls in the dining room always seemed cold and oppressive, and the chandelier over the mahogany table hung sharp and threatening, glass points glistening like the tips of a thousand swords waiting to fall.

“How was work, darling,” Naomi said, her tone making it a statement rather than a question, as though she were reading off an autocue. Her husband, Chuck, didn’t seem to notice.

“Wonderful,” he replied, taking a bite of his dinner. Naomi nodded graciously and moved on.

“And how was school, Castielle?”

Cas resisted the temptation to shrug: that never went down well. Instead, she said,

“It was fine. We were given a new assignment in textiles class.”

Naomi raised her eyebrows, inviting Cas to continue.

“We’re making prom dresses for other people in the class.” She stopped, hoping her mother wouldn’t ask, but –

“And who are you making yours for?” Naomi asked.

“…Deanna. Deanna Winchester,” Cas said reluctantly. Naomi scowled, as Cas had known that she would.

“I thought we agreed to stay away from the Winchesters,” she snapped. Cas shrugged, and Naomi’s expression darkened further.

“I was assigned Deanna, I didn’t choose her,” Cas said. “It’s not a problem. We’ll only see each other once a week, in class.”

Naomi sighed.

“I should hope so,” she said. “I’ve heard terrible things about that family. Apparently the father’s a drunk. The neighbours can hear him shouting at all hours. Deanna works at that greasy mechanic’s place, Singer Salvage. And the younger sister, Samantha, is hardly ever home. No one can find out why.”

Cas felt a little stab of pity for Deanna. No wonder the girl hardly ever talked to anyone – she was dealing with problems way beyond the usual boyfriends and dresses dilemmas. Or girlfriends, Cas reminded herself, remembering the rumour that Deanna had hit on the head of the cheerleaders.

“What was she like?” Cas tuned back in to hear Naomi asking.

“Angry,” Cas said. “Rude. But I think it comes from low self-esteem.”

Naomi went very still.

“That,” she said quietly, “is unacceptable.”

“What?” Cas asked, her voice suddenly small. She knew that when her mother’s voice was this smooth and calm, she was in serious trouble.

“I do not want you  _thinking_ about Deanna Winchester. You will not consider her, do you understand? You are doing exceptionally well in all of your classes, and I will not have you throw away the chance to be Valedictorian, just because you made friends with some stupid little working-class wench, do you hear me?”

“Mother,” Cas began, raising a placating hand. “I’ve barely spoken two words to her. We’re not friends, not even close.”

“Tell me you’ll keep it that way,” said Naomi, pointing her finger at Cas, pinning her down with a cold, impassive gaze. “Tell me now that you have no interest in Deanna Winchester, or I’ll pull you out of textiles class altogether, young lady, and you’ll do your assignment from home.”

“You can’t –” Cas broke off. She’d been here before, and her mother certainly could. More to the point, she _would_. Without a second’s hesitation. “Mother, I have no interest in Deanna Winchester,” she said, her lips twisting around the lie.

Naomi nodded, satisfied, and took a large bite of her dinner.

**

“Why are you so interested in me?” Deanna demanded the next morning, as Cas approached her in the hallway.

“You’re strange and confusing,” Cas replied, after a moment. “You have an unusual quality to you, like you’re hiding something because you’re not sure if it’s good or bad.”

“Uh, yeah, OK. Ever heard of a rhetorical question, weirdo?” Deanna muttered, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She ran a hand through her hair, making it stick up fluffily at the top. She wasn’t wearing any make-up, so Cas could see the freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks.

“Yes. I apologise. I’m not good at reading social cues,” Cas explained. She clutched her books tighter to her chest as Deanna curled her lip.

“You need to get better at pretending to be, then,” she said. “No one’s gonna like you, otherwise.”

Cas swallowed, and took a step back.

“I…” she began, not sure what she wanted to say. “My mother says I shouldn’t talk to you,” she said impulsively, wanting to see Deanna’s reaction. The other girl smirked bitterly, as though perversely proud of her bad reputation.

“Doesn’t want her perfect little girl mixing with those dirty Winchesters?” Deanna asked. “That was another rhetorical question, don’t answer it.”

“I’m not going to listen to her,” Cas said.

“Oh, well, good for you!” Deanna said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. She held her hand up in the air; Cas went for the high-five but Deanna dodged at the last second with a smirk. She picked up her studded leather jacket and threw it over one shoulder before slamming her locker and turning away. Cas moved to follow her.

“Where are you going?” Deanna demanded.

“I was going to walk with you to class,” Cas said, feeling a blush starting at the base of her neck. Deanna looked at her as though she had two heads.

“Why would I want that?” Deanna asked. “You come over here, tell me that I’m weird and secretive and not good enough for your family, and now you wanna walk me to class? What, as some kind of rebellion against your mommy? Baby girl wants to be her own person? Well, I’ve got news for you, sweetheart. If you want to be a rebel, I’m not gonna be your cause.” She glared at Cas, jerked her chin aggressively. “You and your big blue eyes can screw off, Castielle.”

She walked away.

Cas watched her go.

So that was that, she thought. Another friendship that she’d messed up within the first few days.

At least her mother would be happy.

**

Cas ate lunch alone, at her usual table. People had learned to leave her be; she wouldn’t talk to them, even if they sat next to her. She’d just bury her head in a book until they left.

She was feeling miserable. This had happened before, of course: the thrill of fresh interaction, the hope of friendship, the inevitable rebuff. It was different, though, this time. Cas found that she cared more. The other times that she’d tried to make friends, she’d approached it like a logic puzzle: watching her target closely beforehand, figuring out their likes and dislikes, hoping to impress them with her unprecedented deep knowledge of how they took their coffee, their favourite movie, where they wanted to go on vacation. With Deanna, she hadn’t stopped to think, or to watch. For the first time in her life, she’d felt a real connection with somebody, a genuine spark of…

Of what? Cas asked herself, feeling suddenly guilty and uncomfortable. She’d noticed the way that her thoughts kept turning to Deanna’s full lips, long bowed legs and softly curving tummy. Did it mean – what she thought it meant? What she hoped, frantically desperately hoped, that it didn’t mean, because she couldn’t even begin to process her mother’s reaction to finding out that her perfect daughter was…

“Hey,” said a voice behind Cas’ right shoulder. Cas turned. Standing there, lunch tray in hand and wearing a hesitant, slightly fierce expression, was Deanna Winchester.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked. Cas tilted her head.

“No,” she said slowly. “But there are plenty of other places to sit.”

Deanna bit her lip.

“I deserve that,” she said, looking down at her worn old boots. “Can I sit here, though?”

After a moment, Cas nodded. She found herself watching the way Deanna’s jeans went tight over her ass as she bent down to put her bag on the floor carefully.

“Got my sister’s laptop in it,” Deanna said, by way of explanation. “Gotta be careful, she loves that thing.”

“Your sister?” Cas said, hoping that Deanna would keep talking so that she could take a moment to get her mind straight. She focused very deliberately on Deanna’s eyes.

“Yeah, Sammy. She goes to school here too, she’s a total nerd. Spends all her time either here or in the public library, studying.”

Deanna began scarfing down her lunch, putting whole handfuls of fries into her mouth at once, accidentally letting a few fall to the floor. Cas picked up her yoghurt and tore off the lid, licking it thoughtfully.

Deanna’s eyes tracked the movement of her tongue, and Cas’ thoughts scattered like dropped fries.

“Um!” she said, too loud and very suddenly. Deanna’s gaze snapped back to Cas’ eyes. Was the other girl _blushing_? Cas felt her confusion increase.

“Do you have brothers or sisters?” Deanna asked, sounding unperturbed despite her rosy cheeks.

“No,” Cas responded. “A lot of cousins. But I’m an only child.”

“Rough,” Deanna responded. “I’d hate to not have a sister. Sammy’s the best.”

Cas smiled.

“I bet she likes you,” she said.

Deanna shrugged, but her small smile was warm and genuine. It sent a tingle down Cas’ spine, put a warmth low in her tummy. She cleared her throat and looked away.

“Yeah, well. She’s a real pain in the ass, but she’s pretty great. Don’t ever tell her I said that,” she said, waving a fry threateningly in Cas’ direction, and because they were sitting close and Cas was distracted and confused and slightly panicky, she acted purely on instinct – and leaned forward, and ate the fry right out of Deanna’s hand.

There was a long, long moment where Deanna held on to the fry with the tips of her fingers, looking down into Cas’ eyes in complete surprise, and then she let go. Cas leant back, chewing silently, staring down at her plate.

“That… was mine,” Deanna said.

“You waved it in my face,” Cas replied.

“I didn’t mean for you to eat it!”

“Well, that’s not fair!” Cas said, and found that suddenly she had a whole lot to say, as though it had been building in her mind since Deanna had first sat down. “You keep putting all these things in front of me that I’m not supposed to do anything with! Rhetorical questions, fake high-fives, fries in my face, and… other stuff, too…” Cas swallowed. “I can’t ignore it forever, Deanna!”

“I wasn’t asking you to ignore the fry forever!” Deanna exclaimed. “I was going to eat it! You have a salad, anyway…”

“Maybe I  _wanted_ the fry!” Cas shouted back. “I’m a person who likes fries more than salad! So maybe, maybe I didn’t want to ignore the fry! Maybe I thought it looked good! Why shouldn’t I eat the fry if the fry is right there and the fry looks good?”

Deanna squinted at her.

“Are… we still talking about fries?” she said. Cas flushed.

“What else could we be talking about?” she said furiously.

“I – I don’t know,” Deanna said, but there was something in her eyes that told a different story. “Is it…?” Cas shrugged self-consciously.

“I’ve got a class,” she said, getting to her feet.

“Oh, OK,” said Deanna, looking slightly disappointed and taking a big bite of her burger to cover it.

“But listen, um, Deanna? It would be really helpful for the prom dress assignment if I could… if I could do a fitting. I’ve made some sketches and I have the material. Would that be OK?”

Deanna, her mouth still full, nodded and made incomprehensible noises. Finally, she swallowed thickly and grinned.

“Sure thing, Cas,” she said. “Can we do next Thursday evening? I have work tonight and the night after.”

“Perfect,” Cas replied. She walked away.

**

Cas was in trouble.

She knew it absolutely and certainly. She was supposed to leave Deanna alone – she was supposed to leave  _girls_ alone altogether.

“It’s wrong for a girl to like girls,” Naomi had said once, when they were watching TV and saw a gay couple sharing a kiss.

 Cas knew that wasn’t true – what she felt about De- about  _girls in general_ wasn’t wrong, it was natural. It was part of who she was, it seemed, though she’d fought the truth for a while, hoping it wasn’t so, just because it made things that much more difficult.

It was the fry that she was never, ever allowed to eat. And it would be  _so_ much easier if she just wanted salad.

Deanna walked in, wearing her ripped skinny jeans and low-cut tank top with an open shirt, her sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and Cas really, really wanted to eat the fry.

“Fry,” she said. “Um, I mean, hi.”

Deanna rolled her eyes.

“Fry to you too,” she said. “Where do I stand?”

“Over there, by the mirror,” Cas said. “So that I can see the front when I’m adjusting it behind you. But…”

Deanna paused.

“I’m going to need you to take off… your clothes,” Cas said, trying very hard not to blush. “Just your jeans and your shirt, you can keep the tank top on.”

Deanna shrugged.

“Fine by me,” she said with a grin, beginning to strip. Cas kept her eyes carefully trained on her sketches, picking up the material that she’d sewn roughly into shape the night before.

“One more thing,” Cas said, approaching Deanna from across the room. “I don’t want you to see the dress before it’s perfect. So you’re going to wear this.” She dangled a thin strip of black material from her hand.

“A – a blindfold?” Deanna said. “Kinky.”

Cas flushed to the roots of her hair.

“No, it’s OK,” Deanna said with a smile, taking the material. “But, uh, I’m not a big fan of – being in the dark, while people move around me, where I can’t see them…” her throat seemed to stick for a second. “So if you could keep up a sort of commentary on what you’re doing, that would be great. Or just talk to me.”

“You don’t trust me?” Cas said, teasing slightly, but Deanna was deadly serious when she answered,

“A hell of a lot more than most people, Cas.”

Cas turned away, only allowing herself to smile when she was sure that Deanna couldn’t see her. When she turned back, the other girl was wearing the blindfold.

“You there, Cas?” she called nervously.

“Right here,” Cas replied, moving across the room with armfuls of green material. “I’ve got the material that I’m going to use. I’m right behind you now, and I’m, um, I’m bending down to put it on the floor. Am I doing this right?”

“You’re doing great, Cas,” Deanna replied, her fingers twisting at the hem of her tank top. Cas grabbed an handful of material.

“I’m right in front of you now. I’m going to put this bit over your head,” she said, getting to her feet and moving around to face Deanna. “Put your arms up, please.”

Deanna obediently raised her hands into the air, and Cas slipped the dress over them. Deanna shaved under her arms, Cas couldn’t help but notice. Her skin was evenly tanned and looked soft. Cas adjusted the loops of material that lay on Deanna’s shoulders, making sure they rested neatly on either side of her collarbones. Unable to help herself, Cas looked Deanna up and down, her eyes coming to rest on her lips, soft and temptingly close.

“Still there?” Deanna asked after a moment.

“Still here,” Cas confirmed.

“Don’t go off and leave me, OK? Not a cool trick.”

“I won’t,” Cas said, and found that she meant it on more levels than one. It had showed in her tone, too, a strange edge to it that Deanna was sure to pick up on. She bit her lip.

“Cas,” Deanna said, very quietly.

“Yes, Deanna?”

“It’s not true that I hit on the head of the cheerleading squad.” Cas swallowed. Did that mean what she thought it meant – was Deanna denying the rumour that she was into girls? She bent down hurriedly, pulling the skirt into position around Deanna’s feet.

“Oh,” she said lightly. “Well.”

“I just wanted you to know that Ruby’s not my type of girl,” Deanna said. Cas paused in her adjustments of the hem.

“But you do have… a type of girl?” she asked, trying incredibly hard to be casual.

“I’m bisexual,” Deanna said simply. “Do you mind?”

“What?” Cas asked, standing up again so that she could pin the waistline into position, careful to avoid poking through to Deanna’s skin. “Why would I mind?”

“I thought, earlier on, with the fries… you were maybe trying to tell me that you knew. And I just wanted to clear up any confusion, now, before it gets weird.”

Cas nearly laughed.

“You thought that was about you?” she said, pushing in more pins.

“It wasn’t?”

“Not everything is about you, Deanna.”

“Ouch! Careful with those pins,” Deanna said. “So, wait, did I misread the whole thing completely, or were we really talking about…?”

“We were really talking about being gay,” said Cas, self-consciously. She’d said the word so few times before, and it still felt strange, as though it were nothing to do with her. “I think I might be.”

“What? Awesome!” said Deanna. “That’s… that’s so great!” She was absolutely beaming, like Cas had never seen her do before.

“It is?” Cas said. “It just seems like a – a pain in the ass, to me.”

“No way! It means… it means…” Deanna tailed off, searching for a way to finish her sentence. “It means that you’re into girls!”

“Yes,” said Cas, and Deanna’s grin widened because she could hear the smile in Cas’ voice. “Well observed.” She walked around the back of the dress, tugging it into place so that it fitted neatly around Deanna’s hips.

“That’s awesome!” said Deanna. Cas didn’t answer, concentrating hard on putting clasps all down the back of the dress, holding it in place and drawing chalk lines where she’d need to sew it. She worked in silence for several minutes, Deanna standing relaxed and silent above her.

“I’m nearly done,” Cas said eventually, brushing a few stray strands of hair out her face. “I just need to put in this clasp… there. Done.”

“Can I look?” Deanna asked eagerly. Cas considered. Deanna looked very pretty in the dress, it was true. Once it had been sewn to fit her right, it would be perfect.

Cas was suddenly seized by the conviction that perfection was completely the wrong thing to be aiming for.

“No,” she said. “Not yet. I’ve got to make some adjustments, big ones.” She bent down to look at her sketches, and started scribbling on them frantically. “I’ve got an idea, a really good one. It’s going to be great, trust me. You’re going to look so pretty.”

“Mmm,” said Deanna sceptically.

“What?” Cas asked absently, still drawing.

“Yeah, the whole ‘pretty’ thing? Not really my scene.”

Cas squinted up at her in confusion.

“What does that mean?” she asked. “You  _are_ pretty.”

Deanna opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She reached out a hand, found Cas’ hair; feeling her way down, she tucked her hand under Cas’ chin and pulled lightly upwards. Obeying the pressure, Cas stood up, facing Deanna’s blindfolded face.

“Cas, I feel like I’m in the dark, here,” Deanna said, with a little laugh, “in more ways than one. Can we… I mean, are we…? Because I’m… but I don’t know if you’d like to… you know?”

Cas could barely breathe, and her heart was pounding like she was sprinting. She reached up to tug at the knot that Deanna had tied into the material at the back of her head. The blindfold fell away, and suddenly they were eye-to-eye, standing closer than Cas had realised. Deanna’s eyes were wide and slightly unfocused as she blinked in the light, watching Cas’ face.

“I’d like to,” Cas said, tentatively. “And we could. If you want.” Deanna had let the hand on Cas’ chin fall back to her side; Cas reached out and took it gently.

Deanna looked down at it, then back to Cas’ face.

“I want,” she said. “I really, really do. But Cas, have you thought about this? I bring a lot of crap with me. I’m not exactly perfect girlfriend material, here.”

Cas smiled, and Deanna didn’t seem to be able to resist reaching up with her free hand to tuck a straying strand of Cas’ hair behind her ear.

“I thought I wanted perfect,” Cas said softly, leaning into the touch, “but I don’t. Not at all.”

“Uh-huh, OK. So, um. What do you want, Cas?” Deanna asked, her eyes light and hopeful and so, so beautiful.

“You,” said Cas, with absolute certainty. “I want you.”

She touched her hand to Deanna’s cheek, and Deanna’s hand was on the back of her neck, and then they were kissing and it was  _glorious._ Deanna’s lips were so full and so soft, and when she opened her mouth it tasted sweet and wonderful. She pushed her tongue into Cas’ mouth, a little sloppy, and Cas responded with too much enthusiasm and nearly bashed their teeth together. She shifted, adjusting her angle, and it was better – smoother, and Deanna hummed in enjoyment as Cas licked along the length of her tongue, slow and careful. Deanna cupped Cas’ cheek in her hand, and pulled back slightly; Cas allowed it, but bit Deanna’s lower lip gently as she moved away.

Deanna laughed shakily.

“That… might be the best kiss I’ve ever had,” she said. “Actually, no might. It  _was_ the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“We could do it again?” Cas suggested, running her hand up the back of Deanna’s neck, pushing her fingers through her soft, short hair. Deanna’s pupils were wide, her mouth slightly open.

“Yes,” she said, “god,  _yes._  But first, there’s something I want to ask.”

Cas, unable to help herself, pressed a short, chaste kiss to Deanna’s lips.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Cas, would you… would you go to prom with me?”

Cas stared at her, momentarily dumbstruck. A thousand problems surfaced in her mind. She hadn’t bought a dress, she’d never been to a prom before, she wasn’t good at dancing, she  _hadn’t told her parents that she was gay…_  she ignored them.

“Yes, please,” she said, suddenly shy, so Deanna kissed her on the nose. “I would love to go with you. And I’m going to have your dress ready by then.”

“So I am,” said Deanna.

“What?!”

“Just you wait and see,” Deanna replied mysteriously.

**

It was ten days until senior prom, and Deanna kept her lips locked for every single one of them. Cas tried to coerce the secret out of her, but Deanna was impervious to her lines of questioning. Cas, to be fair, was easily distracted.

“Are you  _buying_ me a dress?” she asked, pulling Deanna into an empty classroom before they went to history. Deanna smiled, and leaned down to kiss her way up Cas’ neck.

“Are you  _making_ it for me?” Cas demanded the next day, as they disappeared into a dark closet before school started. Deanna pulled her in close, running her hand down Cas’ chest and then pushing it under Cas’ shirt.

The day after that, Cas didn’t even manage to get a question out before Deanna had her lips caught with her own, kissing her hard and needy, pushing her hands into Cas’ long hair.

“Sorry,” she muttered when she broke away. “Last night was bad. My dad, you know, he… he drinks too much, and… he wakes me up in the middle of the night sometimes, just to shout a bit and scare me.”

“I’m sorry, Dee,” Cas said sadly, pressing a delicate kiss to the corner of her girlfriend’s mouth. Deanna’s eyes were slightly wet with tears.

“It’s OK,” she said, sniffing angrily. “I’m getting out of there after senior year, anyway. Bobby Singer, the guy who runs the salvage yard where I work? He’s got a job for me. I’ll earn enough to get my own place.”

“So you’ll be staying in town?” Cas said delightedly. “My college is only half an hour’s drive from here. We can see each other all the time!”

Deanna pulled away a little.

“You’re seriously gonna go to college and keep your no-good girlfriend around?” she said.

Cas considered.

“Well, I do have the whole of the summer to get bored with you first, and move on…” she said pensively. Deanna dug her in the ribs, making her squirm and laugh. “Of course I want to be with you, Dee. If you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll have you,” Deanna repeated, smiling, as though Cas had just told a joke. “You moron.”

On the evening before prom, Cas took Deanna aside in the corridor before she caught the bus home.

“About tomorrow night,” she said. “I’m going to bring your dress to school. If you could bring mine…?”

“Sure,” Deanna said comfortably, keeping a careful distance between them whilst they were in public.

“And…” Cas paused, swallowed hard. “Could you pick me up from my house? In your car?”

Deanna cocked her head.

“Are we going as friends?” she asked cautiously. Cas shook her head.

“No,” she said firmly. “This is who I am. My mother will probably hate it, but she doesn’t get to choose who I can like. And I like  _you,_ so she can…” she searched for one of Deanna’s phrases, “… _suck it._ ”

Deanna grinned, and put a warm hand on Cas’ arm.

“I like you, too,” she said softly. “I’m… I’m proud of you, Cas. My dad doesn’t even know about me.”

“That will have to change when I marry you,” Cas said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Deanna said with a shrug. “But, you know, we must have a good few days before then, right?”

“Just the one,” Cas said seriously. “I’m going to whisk you to the church after prom.”

“I think I’d quite like to be whisked,” Deanna said, with a smile.

“Kinky.”

Deanna hit Cas on the arm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. “With your dress.”

Cas threw a glance up and down the deserted corridor, before kissing her lightly on the cheek.

“I can’t wait,” she said, her heart beating fast and strong in her chest.

**

The next day, Deanna refused to hand over the dress until the last possible moment. Cas put the one she’d made for Deanna in her car first thing, but Deanna held onto Cas’ as long as she could. As Cas was about to get on the bus to go home, Deanna finally gave her long, wrapped-up parcel with a hanger sticking out of the top.

“Don’t you dare open it until you’re home,” she warned.

“I won’t,” Cas promised. “See you later.”

The instant Cas was home, she tore upstairs and ripped open the package.

The dress sat on the bed, and Cas stared down at it.

It was blue, and looked as though it would end at around Cas’ knees. There were sequins all around the neckline and down the front, which seemed to make a pattern that Cas couldn’t quite make out. She stripped quickly, pulling off her trenchcoat, her shirt and her skirt, tugging the dress off the hanger and sliding it on over her head. She did the zip, feeling how neatly the dress sat on her hips, and hugged her breasts. She stepped into the shoes that Deanna had put in the bottom of the package, blue and high-heeled. She took a deep breath, and then turned to face the mirror.

It was only when she saw her reflection that she understood. The sequins on the dress sparkled and glimmered in the low light, forming the shape of lapels. The dress had a ribbon around the middle which she hadn’t noticed at first; now, she cinched it around her waist, completing the look. Deanna hadn’t just made her a dress – she’d made her a  _trenchcoat_ dress.

Stepping closer to the mirror, Cas noticed a small note pinned to one shoulder.

 _Zero marks for originality,_ it read.  _But I couldn’t think of any way to improve on how you normally look. I found your sketches in the textiles room and improvised. Hope you like it._

Cas scrunched the note up in her hand, smiling in fierce joy, and then flattened it out and stuck it in the frame of the mirror.

“I love it,” she whispered, hoping that in her own room, Deanna was thinking the same thing.

**

_Knock knock, knock._

“Castielle, that’ll be your date!” Naomi called up the stairs. Cas ran, or walked as fast as she could in her heels, hurtling down the stairs. “Slowly, Castielle! I’ve got the camera ready. Chuck! Castielle is about to go to prom!”

As her father appeared in the hallway, Cas threw the door open. On the porch was Deanna Winchester, in the dress that Cas had made for her.

It was floor-length and green, bright green, with a bodice made of velvet, daringly low-cut and enticing. The straps were made of the same floaty, gauzy material as the skirt, which was layered and ruffled and _slashed_ , with big holes appearing all over the fabric. Sequins were strewn across it indiscriminately. In Deanna’s hair was the light, golden tiara that Cas had made herself at home, and she’d also made a pair of long, black fingerless gloves, with gold sequins to match. Deanna flexed her fingers, catching Cas looking at them.

“Cas,” she said, not coming in, “this is the most… I just, I –”

Cas stepped quickly outside, pulling the door closed on her confused parents for a moment. She pulled Deanna into a hug.

“You made me beautiful,” Deanna said, her voice strained with emotion. “I’m… I’m still me, but I’m beautiful, and you did that, and I just… thank you, Cas.”

She buried her head in Cas’ neck. Cas cleared her throat.

“My dress,” she replied softly, “is my favourite thing in the whole world, apart from you. I love it, you understand? I love it, Dee.”

Deanna lifted her head, her smile wobbly.

“I’m so glad,” she said softly. “Shall we?” She gestured towards her car.

“My parents want to take a picture,” Cas said, pulling away from the embrace and taking Deanna’s hand before pushing open the door.

“Castielle,” Naomi said, looking forbidding, “is this your friend?”

“No, Mother,” Cas said, without a single tremor in her voice. “This is Deanna Winchester, and she’s my date to prom. You can take our photograph now.”

Naomi clutched the camera in white, white fingers, and didn’t move.

“Mother?” Cas prompted, as the moment stretched out.

Cas’ father stepped across the hall. He reached out and gently eased the camera out of Naomi’s hands.

“Chuck…” Naomi said, making a half-hearted attempt to cling on to the strap. He tugged it away from her.

“It’s her prom night, Naomi,” he said. “Get out of the way.”

He held up the camera, gesturing Cas and Deanna together with a smile.

“Say cheese!” he said, and Cas grinned as wide as she could, feeling Deanna’s hand on her waist, rubbing light, reassuring circles. “Perfect,” Chuck said. “You both look beautiful. Now go and have fun!” He offered his daughter a wink as he began to close the door after them. “Be good,” he said, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. Cas smiled gratefully at him, putting her hand over his.

“Thanks, Dad,” she whispered.

“I love you, Castielle,” he replied, just as quietly. “I’ll talk to your mother.”

He closed the door gently. Deanna gripped Cas’ hand.

“That went pretty well,” she said. “Now… shall we?”

Cas leaned over and kissed Deanna on the cheek.

“Let’s,” she said. “Though, you should probably know… I can’t dance. At all.”

**

In the end, it didn’t matter that Cas couldn’t dance, because Dee wasn’t great either. Because the school was fairly small, the prom was being held in the school cafeteria, and it was packed with students; Deanna and Cas’ arrival wasn’t even noticed in the chaos. They moved out onto the dance floor, where sweaty students were jumping and gyrating, running their hands through their hair and shaking their hips. Deanna threaded Cas’ fingers through her own.

“You ready to do this?” she said, right in Cas’ ear so that she could be heard over Nicki Minaj.

“I am ready,” Cas replied, and so they danced. Terribly, and happily, laughing when they almost fell or moved so far off the beat that they nearly hit each other. After an hour or so, Cas made for the seats at the side of the room whilst Deanna visited the bathroom.

It was amazing, Cas thought. Three weeks ago, she’d barely spoken to Deanna at all. She’d never been to a prom, and she’d though that she never would. And now…

“Hey, girlfriend,” Deanna said, flopping into the seat next to Cas. “I can call you that because you’re my girlfriend.”

“Yes, we’ve been over this.” Cas stared out at the crowd of dancing students, unable to repress a smile.

“You’re my girlfriend. And I’m yours. In a list of girlfriends, you name would be next to mine. Because you’re my girlfriend.”

“Yes,” said Cas. “That’s how it works.”

“What’s it like, being my girlfriend?”

“Tiring,” Cas sighed. “Irritating.” She turned to look into Deanna’s eyes, and melted. “Wonderful,” she said. “I’ve never been happier, Dee.”

Deanna ran the back of her fingers along Cas’ cheek, and leaned in to kiss her softly.

“Jesus. Get a room, you two,” said Ruby as she passed by, pulling Anna by the hand. Deanna pulled Cas in tighter, and flipped Ruby off; Cas could hear her laughing as she walked away.

“I’m so happy,” Cas said, when they broke away. “Dee, this isn’t the end, is it? It’s not the bit in the story where the characters are so happy that you just  _know_ something terrible is coming?”

Deanna shook her head, kissing Cas’ nose.

“I don’t know about terrible things,” she said. “But I know this isn’t the end, Castielle. I’m not gonna let it be the end.”

Cas leaned her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder, not needing to reply.

**

Two months later, Cas walked into Deanna’s apartment. It wasn’t furbished yet, only one sofa and a table in the living room, and the walls needed painting. Cas was there to help.

“My arm is going to get tired,” Cas said, rolling bright blue paint onto the living room wall.

“You know who whines?” Deanna said, flicking paint on to Cas’ ragged old t-shirt. “Babies.” Cas narrowed her eyes and flicked a little paint back. Deanna held up her hands.

“OK, let’s not let this get out of –” she began, just as Cas smeared a full brush across her bare arm, leaving it covered in paint. “You little –!” She dropped her brush and tackled Cas, wrestling her to the sofa and pinning her arms above her head, knees on either side of her body. Cas was grinning up at her, a spot of blue paint under one eye, her hair escaping messily from its ponytail. Deanna sat back onto Cas’ hips, dropping her arms.

“What?” Cas asked, sitting up and wrapping her arms around Deanna’s waist.

“Oh, nothing,” Deanna said. “Just – I just realised – I love you.”

Cas blinked, twice, her mouth wide open.

“I love you,” Deanna said again. “I do, Cas. I really do. I love you.”

Cas put the flat of her hand against Deanna’s cheek, and Deanna closed her eyes and leaned into the touch.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, and then frowned, and said loudly, “I love you, too! I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“It’s kinda addictive, isn’t it?” Deanna said, smiling. “Once you’ve said it once… I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

They said the words again and again, called them out to the empty house, whispered them softly into skin.

They didn’t get a lot of painting done, that day.


End file.
